Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Zoe
“Take these,” I say, dropping two ibuprofen into each of their palms, “and if you argue with me, I’ll make it four.”
They don’t argue. They don’t even try. They just swallow the pills with the water I’ve provided.
It would be funny if it weren’t so concerning.
“And now,” I continue, crossing my arms over my chest, “you’re all going to sit down and rest. No work. No pretending to be fine. Just... sit. And wait for the meds to kick in.”
Diego is already seated at the kitchen island, looking relieved to have been given permission to stop fighting. Tristan doesn’t move from his spot on the couch, but he does set his phone down. Dane hesitates, then moves to sit in one of the armchairs.
Only Rett resists, standing by the kitchen island, his jaw set in that stubborn way that I’ve come to recognize as his default response to being told what to do.
“Rett,” I say, putting just enough steel in my voice to make it clear I’m not backing down. “Sit. Down.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. For a moment, I think he’s going to refuse. Then, with a barely audible sigh, he moves to the couch, sinking down next to Tristan.
“Thank you,” I say, letting my tone soften. “Now, I’m going to make some actual food. Something simple but nutritious. And you four are going to sit there and let the ibuprofen work, and then we’re going to talk. Really talk.”
I move back to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to survey the contents. I pull out eggs, cheese, and a variety of vegetables. An omelet. Simple, quick, protein-rich.
As I work, I’m acutely aware of their eyes on me.
Four pairs, watching my every move with varying degrees of intensity.
It should feel uncomfortable, being the center of such focused attention.
Instead, it feels... right. Natural. Like the most normal thing in the world to have these four men silently tracking my movements as I crack eggs into a bowl.
By the time I’ve finished cooking and divided the omelet onto plates, the painkillers seem to be taking effect. The tight, pained lines around their eyes have softened slightly. Their postures are more relaxed, the rigid tension easing from their shoulders.
“Better?” I ask, placing plates in front of each of them.
“Yes,” Dane admits, his voice less strained than before. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” I warn, taking a seat across from them. “We still have to have that talk.”
Tristan winces, but it’s more theatrical than pained. “Can’t we just eat our omelets in blissful, non-confrontational silence?”
“No,” I say firmly. “We can’t. We’ve been dancing around this for days, and I’m tired of it. So eat, and then we talk.”
They eat. Not with their usual hearty appetites, but they eat. The static may be diminished by the medication, but it’s clearly still there.
When the plates are cleared, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what comes next.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s start with the obvious. The bond is gone. The marks have faded. And the static is back, worse than before.”
Four grim nods confirm my assessment.
“What I want to know is... what now? Where do we go from here?”
The question hangs in the air between us, heavy with implications.
It’s Rett who finally breaks the silence.
“Stay,” he says, the word simple but loaded with meaning. “Stay with us.”
I study him, taking in the shadows under his eyes, the strain still visible in the set of his shoulders despite the medication. “Why?” I ask, not challenging, just seeking clarity. “What would be different this time?”
“Everything,” Diego says immediately. “We would be honest with you. About what you mean to us. About what we want.”
“And what do you want?” I press. “Really want? Not just what you think I want to hear.”
“You,” Tristan says simply. “In our pack. In our lives. In our...” He hesitates, glancing at the others. “In our bed, if you want that. But mostly just... with us.”
“As what?” I ask. “Your beta? Your... cure?”
“As our partner,” Dane says, his voice quiet but firm. “Our mate. Bond or no bond.”
I lean back, absorbing this. It sounds good. It sounds perfect, actually. But...
“The static,” I say. “It’s still a problem. A big one.”
“We know,” Rett says, a hint of his usual command returning to his voice. “And that’s not why we’re asking you to stay. The static is... painful. Yes. But losing you was worse.”
The sincerity in his voice makes something in my chest tighten. But I need more. I need to be sure.
“Explain,” I say. “Tell me exactly what you’re proposing.”
They exchange glances then Rett leans forward, his hands clasped between his knees. “We know we have no right to ask you for anything. We handled this entire situation badly. We were selfish. We were... thoughtless.”
He looks up, and the raw, undisguised apology in his blue eyes hits me with the force of a physical blow.
“What we are asking,” he continues, his voice steady now, “is not for you to come back and be our... solution. That’s not your job. It’s not your responsibility.”
I frown, confused. “Then what are you asking?”
“He’s asking for a second chance,” Tristan cuts in, his voice soft.
He’s not joking. “A chance to do this right. To prove to you that what we want is... you. Not just the quiet. Not just the relief.” He gestures vaguely to his own chest. “The emptiness... It’s not just the static, Zoe.
It’s the part that was empty before we even met you. ”
“The loneliness,” Diego adds softly.
“We’ve been surviving with the static for years,” Dane adds. “We can continue to do so. But the thought of surviving without you...” He shakes his head. “That’s a different kind of pain entirely.”
I look at the four of them, these powerful, commanding alphas who now look so uncharacteristically vulnerable. So sincere. So...human.
They’ve spent the last three days in agony, and instead of using that pain to manipulate me, to pressure me into coming back, they’ve hidden it. Suffered in silence. Put my well-being above their own.
It’s pathetic and deeply, genuinely moving.
“Okay,” I say finally. “Stop. I get it.”
Rett’s expression shifts, a careful hope dawning. “You do?”
“Yes.” I take a deep breath. “And I have a counter-offer.”
Four pairs of eyes fix on me with laser-like focus.
“Here’s the new deal,” I say. “We are going to try... dating.”
Silence.
“Dating?” Rett repeats, as if he’s never heard the word before.
“Yes, dating,” I confirm. “You know, that thing where people go out together, get to know each other, see if they’re compatible before making huge, life-altering decisions?”
“But we already know you,” Diego says, confused. “You’ve been living with us for weeks.”
“No, you’ve known beta-Zoe-the-aspirin,” I correct him.
“You haven’t known just... Zoe. And I haven’t really known you.
Not as potential... whatever we are. We’ve been bound by this biological thing, this claiming that none of us fully understood.
And now it’s gone.” I gesture to my unmarked neck.
“Now we get to see what’s left. What’s real. ”
“It was always real,” Tristan insists. “The bond just... made it more obvious.”
“Maybe,” I concede. “But I need to be sure. I need to know that what I feel for you—for all of you—is real, and not just some chemical reaction to being claimed by four alphas.”
“What do you feel for us?” Dane asks quietly.
I look at him, at the careful neutrality of his expression. Behind it, I can see the hope, the vulnerability, the need.
“I don’t know,” I admit honestly. “That’s the point of dating. To figure it out. Without the bond clouding everything.”
Rett seems to be struggling with the concept. “So you would... what? Go back to your apartment? See us individually?”
“No, I’ll stay here,” I say, thinking it through as I speak. “For now. To help with the static, if nothing else. It’s not the same as before, I know, but my presence still seems to help a little. And we’ll... spend time together.”
“And if it doesn’t work out?” Diego asks, his voice small. “If you decide you don’t want this?”
I meet his gaze, seeing the fear there. “Then at least we’ll know we tried. That we based our decision on real feelings, not just biology.”
A weighted silence falls over the room as they absorb my proposal. I can see them turning it over in their minds, weighing the risks, the potential for pain.
“And if it does work out?” Rett asks finally. “If we... date, and you decide you do want this?”
“Then we’ll talk about more permanent arrangements,” I say.
“Dating,” Tristan says, testing the word. A slow, cautious smile spreads across his face. “I can work with that. I’m excellent at dating. Ask anyone.”
“I think the idea is that she dates all of us, Tris,” Diego points out. “Not just you.”
“Even better,” Tristan says, his smile widening. “More opportunities to show off my superior romantic skills.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me. This is the Tristan I’ve missed. The ridiculous man who can lighten any mood.
“So we’re agreed?” I ask, looking at each of them in turn. “We try dating. See where it leads. No pressure, no expectations.”
Diego nods immediately, a soft, hopeful smile on his face. Tristan gives an enthusiastic thumbs up. Dane inclines his head in silent agreement.
Rett is the last to respond. His gaze is intense, searching, as if he’s trying to see right through me to the truth at the center of my proposal.
“Dating,” he repeats finally. “And you’ll stay here? During this... trial period?”
“I’ll stay,” I confirm. “But in my own room. With boundaries. This isn’t a free pass to pick up where we left off. It’s a new start.”
He considers this, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nods. “Agreed.”
Relief washes over me. I hadn’t realized how tense I was until the tension released.
“Good,” I say, getting to my feet. “Now, you all need to take more ibuprofen and get some rest. The static isn’t going away, and pretending you’re not in pain isn’t helping anyone.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tristan says with a mock salute. “Any other orders?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t push it, Sterling.”
He grins, the expression more genuine than any I’ve seen since the bond broke. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”